


Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

by AppalachianApologies



Series: Appalachian's 2020 Whumptober [14]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions r dumb, Hurt Spencer Reid, Hurt/Comfort, I promise you all, Mental Health Issues, Mental Illness, References to Suicide, Spencer Whump, This is another one of my emotional fics, Whump, Whumptober 2020, but there is absolutely zero suicide in this fic, heat exhaustion, it's spencer reid, listen, so be prepared guys, there isn't even an attempt, you know he's gonna have mental problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:21:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27009517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppalachianApologies/pseuds/AppalachianApologies
Summary: Spencer has always worn his clothes as a shield, armor for the Hellish world he lives in.Day 14: Heat Exhaustion
Series: Appalachian's 2020 Whumptober [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948174
Comments: 29
Kudos: 188
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends, sorry for the late posting today- homework is not fun haha. As mentioned in the tags, there is a reference to suicide two different times in this fic, but there are no suicidal thoughts, nor an attempt. If this will trigger you, please don't read! Along with that, this is a very mental illness heavy fic. 
> 
> If you are having problems with mental health and need someone to talk to, you can find international hotlines [here.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lines)  
> You are not alone <3
> 
> Please enjoy today's fic!

Spencer had always worn his clothes as armor. 

Even in elementary school, back in Las Vegas, Spencer wore the heavy sweatshirts to hide his frail frame from CPS. In middle school, Spencer wore long pants with holes in the knees, even in the summer, just to make sure no one would see how small he really was. This way, he could create an illusion that he could be something else underneath his clothes. In highschool, Spencer never strayed from long shirts so no one could tell when Diana had one of her bad days.

College was the first place where Spencer almost began branching out as far as his outerwear went. He began wearing button up shirts, trying to create an air of maturity that his tiny body counteracted. He remembers one of his professors gifting him a tie after his first doctorate, and Spencer wore it like a medal.

When he first joined the BAU, Spencer continued to wear his button up shirts, preening under everyone’s praise, finally finding his place in life. It was then, for the first time in years, that Spencer wore something other than long sleeves out in public. His soft shirt was still dress-like, but the sleeves only went down halfway.

Morgan teased him about it, but that’s all it was: teasing. There weren’t any bruises to see, and he’d even gained enough muscle mass to barely fit in the healthy BMI range for his height. He smiled along with Elle, showing more skin to the world than he’d ever done before.

And then Hankel happened.

Scars littered his elbow, and Spencer covered them up as quickly as they came.

The real problem were the scars of his insides. He was held for nearly two days, tortured by a broken man and his broken personalities, and all he wanted to do was hide away from the world.

And so back came his button ups, all the way up to his neck, despite the itch that it causes all day. Back came the sweater vests, just to put an extra layer between him and the hellish world around him.

His shorts found their place in the apartment complex dumpster, even his thin pajamas. Spencer hides away in his clothes, watching his own psyche become a shell.

After detoxing, after withdrawals, the scars began to fade. Each year, they were a bit more pale, and blended in a bit better. The only time Spencer would look at them is on the anniversary of his final day of withdrawals. 

Spencer hides his body from the world, because the last time he showed it, the world ate him up and spit him out.

Even in the shower, he keeps his eyes forward, not looking down when he lathers soap over his broken skin. If he could, Spencer would shower with a sweater on. He doesn’t want the rest of the world to see his body, and he sure as hell doesn’t want to see his own body.

Spencer remembers Morgan diligently staying by his side when he inhaled anthrax, not leaving for even a moment. Spencer remembers covering his hands with the sleeves of his shirt, a poor attempt to hide his body even further. 

When he’s washed and rinsed down, he tries his hardest to shoo Morgan away. Having doctors see his body is enough to make his skin crawl, and he can’t imagine having his own brother see him like this. And so he makes a joke, a quick jab at a man who he might not ever see again, before he’s stripped down to his core.

Spencer’s body is ghostly white, partly from his body fighting (and failing to fight off) anthrax, but the rest is because it’s been years since Spencer’s body has been in the sun. His hands and fingers are a stark contrast from the rest of his body. He takes extra care to keep his legs and ankles covered with long socks and even longer pants, but it all seems like it was for nothing when they continue to tear off his armor.

Doctor Kimura makes sure to give him scrubs, but his arms and feet lay exposed. The top of his chest and bottom of his neck are free to the world, and it makes Spencer want to scream. But when the anthrax continues to spread, and aphasia hits him like a truck, he has other worries.

When he wakes, Spencer instantly shies away from Morgan, dropping both of his hands under the covers, IV be damned. He pulls the thin sheet up to his chin with the excuse of being cold. He’s shaking, yes, but for a different reason than the cold.

Sitting in a hospital bed, barely months later with a bullet wound in his knee, Spencer’s glad the rest of the team is with Hotch. He doesn’t think he’d be able to keep himself from a panic attack if the rest of his team saw him so exposed.

So fragile.

The first thing Spencer does when he gets home is put on three layers of clothes, just to hide himself from the world once again.

After that incident, Spencer wears two layers of pants: one under his knee brace, and one over. It shields him from the onlooker’s stares. Spencer subconsciously brings his shoulders up to his ears, hiding more of his exposed skin.

The only time he looks natural is when he’s working. Eyes scrunched in wonder and confusion, his body completely relaxed. But as soon as the problem is solved, Spencer scrunches back into a chair, making sure his ankles are covered by his socks, and wraps his hands under his armpits. Along with the pressure, it minimizes the amount of skin being shown.

Finally, his armor begins to work.

Spencer is able to crack a smile, even if only for a second.

When the headaches begin, Spencer wishes he had something to hide his head from the world. It’s open to ridicule, and he can’t wrap a sweatshirt around his face without joining his mom in Bennington. So he suffices for the only socially acceptable way to hide: with sunglasses.

Spencer spends his days wrapped up in blankets, getting rid of the remaining mirrors in his house. He keeps the medicine mirror open, just so no one wonders why there’s not a mirror in his bathroom, but this way he doesn’t have to see his face.

The rest of his life happens in a blur.

Everyone leaves, just like he knew they would.

Two layers become three, and his shoes change to cover more of his feet. Suddenly socks aren’t even enough to shield himself from the world around him. And so a pair of socks turns into two, squishing his feet in his shoes, but that just means he’s more protected. Spencer lets his sleeves fall over his hands, the only thing peaking out being his bony fingers.

Winter easily becomes his favorite season. He hides in his scarves, living his best life without being questioned by all of the monsters around him.

Layers and layers are added, and when he drives over the border, he sweats through all of it.

In prison, Spencer’s required to wear the same gray jumpsuit as all of the other inmates.

It takes away his individuality, just as the US prison system intended.

He hoards undershirts like cigarettes in The Yard, keeping them stuffed underneath the fitted sheet of his mattress. At some point he considers using all of the extra clothes he steals from laundry to create a noose and hang himself, but there’s still a part of him that wants to come back to his family.

So instead, Spencer wears three layers of shirts and socks.

Cat Adams touches his face.

He never lets anyone in underneath his armor, and for it to be a wicked woman such as herself just makes it all the way worse. After sending Adams back to the correctional facility to rot, Spencer begins wearing suit jackets.

They hang over his body more than any type of shirt would, and it brings Spencer more comfort than he’s had in a while. The suit jackets bring up his shields, and he begins wearing them more and more, pretending that it’s just him being professional.

He’s not fooling anyone.

On a May day, the team gets called out to Texas. In Spencer’s go bag there are three times as many clothes as any person would need. He wears shirts under sweaters under coats, under jackets, thin pants under his normal get up, and two layers of socks.

The only bits of skin that peak out are his face and fingers. He covers part of it with sunglasses, looking like the G-Man he’d been groomed to be since he was seventeen, and covers the rest of his head with his unkempt hair. 

Spencer stays multiple feet away from anyone and everyone, and he’s become adverse to touching even JJ. 

Although Luke doesn’t know him that well, he’s become well endowed with Spencer’s quirks. Though even with that knowledge, his face is pulled up into a frown when Spencer visits a crime scene in thick outerwear. On the way back, Luke puts the air conditioner on full blast, stealing glances to Spencer until he’s been found out.

It’s only when Spencer stumbles into a chair, breathing becoming choppy, that Luke begins to worry.

Setting a stack of files down next to him, Luke questions, “Hey Reid, you okay?”

Clearing his throat, Spencer just nods.

Luke’s brow furrows when he gets closer to the other man. From the minimal amount of skin he’s showing, Luke can tell that Spencer’s sweating out buckets of salt water. “It’s pretty hot in here,” Luke points out, “You could take off your jacket-”

Spencer’s response is immediate. “No!”

“Whoa, okay. Is everything okay?” Thinking back to what Luke’s read about Spencer's childhood, Luke quietly adds, “I’ve seen my fair share of scars, man. I won’t judge,”

Shaking his head, Spencer stutters out, “It’s not- It’s not that. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“What?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to take off one of your layers or something? It’s only going to get warmer.” Luke continues, files completely forgotten.

Swallowing, Spencer reiterates, “I’m honestly fine.”

Luke keeps looking at Spencer, at a bit of a loss of what to do. He wishes that the other profilers were here instead of him. Not because he doesn’t want to deal with Spencer, but because they would know what to do much better than him. Sure, Luke’s well versed with PTSS, but there’s a lot to know about Spencer Reid that he hasn’t even cracked the surface of.

When Spencer stands up to the whiteboard, marker in hand, his feet nearly miss the floor, and Luke instinctively puts a hand out to steady him.

Spencer’s breath shudders, and he quickly withdraws into his body, akin to a turtle. “Don’t touch me. Please don’t touch me.”

Luke withdraws his hands, holding them out in front of him. “Okay. Alright. Sorry, my bad.” Before he can think better of it, Luke requests, “I think you should sit down though.”

Frowning, Spencer questions, “Why?”

“Reid, you’re really pale,”

Looking as confused as Luke feels, Spencer quietly muses, “I am?”

“Are you sick?”

“I don’t think so,” He mutters, shaking his head.

“Do you have a cough? Or fever or chills?” Luke wishes that JJ were here. She’d know what to do in this situation. “Maybe nausea?”

There’s a minute nod from Spencer, but Luke catches it.

“You’re nauseous?” When Spencer nods again, Luke quickly adds, “Okay, that’s good. I mean, it’s not good, but we have more information now,” Swallowing his tongue, he finishes, “You should probably sit down.”

Spencer looks at him with glassy eyes, and it’s clear that he isn’t absorbing any of the information that’s being directed at him. Blinking sluggishly, Spencer questions, “Alvez…?”

“Reid, you should really be sitting down, man,”

Attempting to ignore his thrumming heartbeat, Spencer murmurs, “...I don’t, what?”

“Reid? Reid!” Luke moves a second before Spencer begins listing sideways, arm reaching out as a weak attempt to stop himself from crashing down into the floor. “Shit, shit, okay,” Luke breathes out, making sure to slowly lower the man to the ground.

Spencer looks even more confused now that he’s on the ground, and it takes his brain a few moments to catch up with what his eyes are seeing. “Please don’t touch me,” Spencer murmurs, pulling his arms a bit closer to his body.

Turning his head to face the conference room door, Luke yells out, “Hey! Can someone call an ambulance? We got an agent down in here!” When he turns back to Spencer, he’s just blinking at the ceiling above him.

Knowing that he himself is the agent down, Spencer insists, “‘M okay, Alvez,”

Frowning, Luke attempts to convince him, “Reid, c’mon, you’ve gotta shed some of these layers, okay? You’re way too warm right now.”

“Nooo,” Spencer moans, subconsciously bringing his shoulders to his ears.

Exasperated, Luke continues, “Reid, this isn’t a negotiation! I think you have heat exhaustion. We’ve gotta do something about that,”

Spencer looks up to him groggily, but takes a few seconds to respond. “You can’t take my clothes,”

“Just a single layer, Reid. You’re wearing a jacket in a Texas summer. C’mon. You’re a genius, you’ve gotta know what’s happening.”

“Jus’ don’t touch me,” Spencer counters tiredly.

Luke runs a stressed hand through his hair, wishing, more than anything that he could just take the damn jacket off himself, even though he knows what a terrible idea that would be. Spencer already has pretty serious touch aversion, and after prison and PTSS, Luke doesn’t want to know what would happen if he took off his jacket.

So he’s left helpless, attempting to coax the agent into drinking some water from the plastic water bottle on the conference table. Spencer isn’t swayed, and instead just looks confused at the action. 

Feeling his anxiety rise and rise, Luke’s extraordinarily grateful when the EMTs arrive, pushing him to the side.

A few of the first responders work to hold Spencer up so the other can tear off his jacket, but that just causes the agent to weakly thrash.

“Don’t touch me,” He begs, attempting to curl in on himself. “Please, please don’t touch me,”

One of the paramedics attempts to soothe him, but it’s clear that Spencer is not looking to listen. Nearly out of options, the paramedic turns to Luke and questions, “Sir, can you-”

“I’ve already tried,” Luke confesses. “He won’t let me get close to him, let alone touch him. I’ve been trying.”

The paramedic nods, before moving one of Spencer’s arms to get him out of a sleeve. Luke frowns when he sees yet another shirt underneath Spencer’s first one, and EMTs look about as alarmed as he does.

With each layer they take off of Spencer, the more panicked he gets. His breathing was already quick before, and with three strangers touching him, Spencer’s hyperventilating in no time. His eyes are wild and unfocussed, and he’s blindly swatting away any hands that get close.

Breaking Luke’s heart, Spencer murmurs a cacophony of, “Please no,”s and “Don’t touch me,”s. 

Making an executive decision, one of the paramedics announces, “Push one miligram of midazolam. He’s not calming down.”

When the needle breaches his skin, Spencer openly sobs. “I don’t want it,” He cries out. “Please, I’m not a sinner,”

Luke takes a shaky breath from the sidelines, wondering, not for the first time, what the hell Spencer has gone through. It’s obvious he’s holding onto a plethora of trauma.

Once Spencer’s unconscious, the first responders make easy work of his clothes, stripping him of nearly all of it. When each layer reveals another piece of cotton and polyester, Luke turns a shade paler.

They move him onto a backboard to put him in the ambulance, and Luke shakes himself out of his stupor. “I’m coming with,” Luke calls out.

“Are you family?”

“No, but I-”

“Are you his medical proxy?”

Luke internally groans. “No, but-”

“I’m sorry sir. You can’t ride in the ambulance. We’re going to Northridge Hospital, and you can meet him there.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but in a blink of an eye they’re gone with one Doctor Spencer Reid.

Chest tightening, Luke unlocks his phone to call his Unit Chief.

*

The first thing Spencer notices when he’s awake is how  _ light _ he feels. 

After spending nearly an entire decade draped in heavy clothes all day, every day, he feels naked without them. Even coming out of the shower, Spencer tosses on the closest thing without waiting for his body to dry off.

But right now? He’s exposed.

Someone has torn off all of his armor and replaced it with a wet paper bag.

Out of nothing but instinct, Spencer pulls the blanket up over his arms, maneuvering around the IV on his left side to do so. It’s only then, when he notices he isn’t alone.

Like a cartoon, Spencer feels like he jumps a foot in the air when he sees Emily’s black hair framing her angry face. He pulls the sheet up further.

Emily locks eyes with him until Spencer loses the battle and looks away only a few moments later. She stays quiet for nearly a full minute, which does nothing but put Spencer on edge. That is, even more than he already is.

Finally, she angrily barks out, “What the  _ fuck  _ was that, Spencer?”

Playing coy, Spencer tries, “What was what?”

“You were wearing three layers,” Emiliy continues without missing a beat. “In summer. In Texas. What the hell were you thinking?” Before Spencer can even think of a response, Emily asks, “How long has this been going on?”

Spencer swallows, finding a spot on the wall to focus on, before quietly answering, “I’ve always felt safer in long clothes.”

“‘Long clothes’?” Emily questions. “Spencer, you were wearing three fucking layers! What the hell is that about? You gave yourself heat exhaustion because, what? You wanted to feel safe?”

Spencer knows she’s only worried, but he can’t help but focus on the anger in her voice. “It’s complicated, Emily,”

“Then spill! I’ve got time, Spence.”

He nods, but doesn’t start talking until a few seconds after. “Clothes just help me hide. They always have. Ever since I can remember.”

“Why do you need to hide?”

“There’s always one or another reasons why.”

Undeterred, Emily insists, “Give me an example.”

“Hankel.” Spencer plainly states, watching as Emily’s eyes grow wide and then soft.

“Do you still have the scars?”

Spencer shakes his head. “No. It’s been over a decade, and I was young. You can’t even see it if you know where to look.”

“Then why…?” She trails off, knowing that Spencer will understand.

“I can’t explain it.”

“Why not tell any of us? Did Hotch know?”

Pushing his lips to one side, Spencer skips the first question and confesses, “I think he had suspicions that something was going on. But there was always something else going on in his life. First Haley, and then the Reaper. The Reaper again, and then worrying about Jack. By the times things finally settled down, Mr. Scratch-”

“I don’t need a run down on Hotch’s fucked up life,” Emily interrupts. “Why didn’t you come to any of us?”

Spencer opens and closes his mouth a few times, gaping like a fish, before he finally settles on, “I don’t know.”

“Spence, you need to talk about these things.”

“I know,” Spencer honestly replies. “Emily, I know I should’ve talked to someone about this years ago. But it’s the only way I feel safe.”

Deeply sighing, Emily points out, “You put yourself in real danger today, Spence. You could’ve killed yourself.” Looking straight at him, she questions, “Be honest, is that what you’re going for?”

Shaking his head, Spencer quickly replies, “No. I don’t want to die. It’s just a, a, a security thing.”

Emily sighs again, and rubs a hand over her face. “You’re flying back tonight, Spence.”

That gets him to sit straight up in the bed. “Wait, what? Why? Emily, I-”

She doesn’t even feel bad when she interrupts, “Spence, I’m about three seconds away from checking you into a hospital-”

“What? No!” This time it’s Spencer’s time to unceremoniously interrupt.

“Spence, you almost killed yourself today.” Emily hisses, letting it sink in for a few moments before continuing, “I don’t care if it was by accident, that’s not okay. What don’t you understand about that?”

Spencer looks down at the sheet covering him, wishing he could push his head under it too. “I didn’t realize it got this bad.”

Emily looks at him, gaze softening. “You need help, Spence. I’m sending you home today, and we’re not negotiating that. I’m going to call Morgan, and let him know-”

“Emily!”

“-what’s happening. You’re going to stay with him.”

Spencer feels his jaw clench. “You can’t possibly be serious.”

“Do I look like I’m joking? Would you rather stay with Morgan or in a hospital?” When Spencer doesn’t reply, she takes that as an answer enough. “After we’re done with this case, we’re going to have a long talk, okay? And talk about some protective measures you’re going to start taking.”

“I’m not a kid,”

“And I’m not insinuating that you are.” Emily counters. “You can’t destroy yourself on my watch-  _ I _ won’t let you destroy yourself on my watch.”

Spencer takes a deep breath, grinding his molars, but doesn’t reply.

“I’m going to get the doctor in here now, okay?” As she suspected, Spencer gives her a terrified look, and his heart rate monitor speeds up. Before she can think better of it, she tosses him a sweatshirt that he recognizes from his go-bag. “You can wear this. Nothing more. You understand me?”

All too grateful to cover his body in armor, Spencer fervently nods.

Before walking out the door, Emily continues, “We’re going to get through this, okay Spence?” When he only nods, she adds, “We’re here for you. The whole team. And the rest of your family too, okay? Hotch, and Morgan, and Blake. You can get through this.” Emily pauses on the door frame, giving him a smile.

As she turns, Spencer quietly notes, “Thanks,” When Emily turns around, he looks back at the bed, but still continues, “Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> The information I used for heat exhaustion was from the CDC [here!](https://www.cdc.gov/disasters/extremeheat/warning.html)
> 
> This is by far the longest fic for whumptober, and if I didn't still have like 16 other prompts to write as of today, I'd definitely be making this into a series. So I'm curious, would you guys like a more in depth series of this after whumptober? I know I'd be down to write more of this.
> 
> As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts, whether it be about this fic or just what's new in your lives! You can come talk with me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/appalachianapologies) (AppalachianApologies) if you'd like! I'm always so down to meet new people :D
> 
> I love you all very much, and I hope you all are doing okay. If you find yourself in a bad or scary situation, here are some hotlines (Please keep in mind that the written out numbers are US hotlines)
> 
> National Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255  
> National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673  
> National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233
> 
> If you don't live in America and need someone to talk to, here's a list of [international hotlines.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lines)  
> You are not alone, and I love you all <3
> 
> Much love to all of you, and take care until tomorrow!! <3


End file.
